


Eat or be Eaten

by virginiasoil



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 16:44:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3536696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virginiasoil/pseuds/virginiasoil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follows Clarke after she leaves until she returns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eat or be Eaten

She spends the first night in the bunker where Bellamy taught her how to shoot. It’s the opposite direction of Mt. Weather and a good distance away from the drop ship and Camp Jaha, plus she figures there may be some supplies she can load up on before leaving the area for good. Lying in the dark, cavernous bunker, however, she realizes that it may not have been the best choice of location considering her desire to escape reminders of what she had done. She had managed to get away from the 100’s first camp, from the survivors of the Ark, from TonDC, from the mountain, but she hadn’t been able to get away from him. 

The tree where they had sat in the dark, listening to each other breath for over and hour, had greeted her upon arrival. She hadn’t been able to avoid the memory of cleaning the blood off his face before they returned to the drop ship, the look in his eyes when he called himself a monster, or the words they had exchanged. He had been broken, and she had given him forgiveness. She had tried to fix him, to patch him up and let him know that he was not as far gone as he believed. As she passed that tree, and the spot where Dax’s body had gone limp, she couldn’t help but realize that only now did she truly understand how he had felt that night. How easily he had welcomed the prospect of death, only pushing it away when her safety was called into question. How much her forgiveness must have meant, but how it still hadn’t been enough. 

The Bunker itself wasn’t much help either. The blanket with its deep, heavy x was still hanging, each bullet hole a sharp reminder of who had been there with her. 

It was in this bunker that something had changed between them. It was here that she started to truly see him for who he was, not who he pretended to be those first few weeks. 

If anything the whole place just made her feel guiltier. She knew that Bellamy had wanted, needed, her to stay. But she just couldn’t do it. She couldn’t be there. She had to face her demons on her own. She needed to be alone with herself. 

In a way she longed for her cell back on the Ark. People always seemed to forget that she had been alone for close to a year. In that tiny cell she only had the walls to talk to, only had the drawings she created to keep her company. Clarke had learned how to be alone, and a tiny part of her preferred it. When you are alone you can’t kill those you care about, or be betrayed by those you trusted, or betray the trust of those who love you. 

There are no hard decisions to be made or battles to fight or people to save. There is selfishness in being alone, and Clarke had been selfless for too long. She had saved her people, but she had destroyed herself in the process. 

********************************************************************************

She spent the second night in the woods, watching the stars in the east and wondering what the ocean was like. 

She spent the third night in a cave, screaming as the faces of those she had killed swam in her dreams. 

She spent the fourth night by a river, letting the bubbling of the water wash over her ears. 

She spent the fifth night under a tree, tasting the salt on her cheeks.

She spent the sixth night in a tree, wondering if the panther whose tracks she had seen earlier would think to climb the oak and whether or not she really cared in the end. 

She spent the seventh night in a clearing, thinking about her mother. 

She spent the eighth night debating trying to find and kill Lexa, ultimately deciding she had enough blood on her hands and that they weren’t that different after all. 

She spent the ninth night thinking of a man with dark hair and dark eyes and too many freckles, trying to believe he had really given her forgiveness. 

On the tenth night she decides to turn around. 

********************************************************************************

On the nineteenth night, Clarke reaches Mt. Weather. She walks through the tunnels until she reaches the door where she and Octavia had met a few weeks earlier. Fox’s body is gone. They took it with them to Camp Jaha so she could be buried with her people. Poor, sweet Fox. 

It’s eerie to walk through the halls. Lights flicker and silence consumes the air. First she goes to the command center. Her eyes glance at the lever, still pulled down, they ghost over the surveillance screens flashing images of death and decay, and they settle on the crumpled, rotting body of President Dante Wallace. She remembers the paints he gave her, the look they shared over her first true dinner in the mountain, and the kindness he had shown her in those terrible days. Bile rises to her throat and she pukes in one of the empty chairs. 

Covering her mouth and nose with her shirt, Clarke drags the fallen president out of the room and lifts him into the bin she brought into the mountain from the tunnels. With one last glance at the room, she turns down the hall and pushes the cart carrying Dante’s body into the elevator. Squeezing herself in next to the cart, she presses the button for level 5. 

************************************************************************************  
The bodies are everywhere. Some seated, some on the ground. Mothers holding children. Husbands holding wives. Friends holding friends. The smell of death is heavy and thick. She gingerly places as many as she can in the cart with Dante. And makes her way to the front door. 

She buries them all. Side by side. Those who had clung to each other she buries together, allowing them to continue their embrace. Trip after trip, load after load, she brings the bodies out and buries them in the earth they never got to touch. Clarke saves Maya for last. She just sits with the girl’s body for a while. Tells the lifeless corpse how sorry she is, how much she hates herself, how she doesn’t deserve to still be alive. 

She tells the shell of what once was a living, breathing, hopeful, courageous girl how much Jasper loved her. How she doesn’t think he would ever forgive her. How much she admires Maya’s bravery. 

How utterly, utterly, sorry she is that it came to this. 

Clarke buries her away from the others, farther away from the door. 

She spends the entire next day gathering flowers, placing one on each adult’s grave, two on each child’s, and more than she can count on Maya’s. 

She spends the day sitting among the garden of the dead begging for forgiveness. 

She falls asleep among her victims, staring at the stars that had dropped her on the earth like a bomb. 

************************************************************************************  
Clarke spends two weeks in Mt. Weather. She goes into every room, looking at the pictures in frames, the paintings, the dolls, the toys, the children’s drawings, the recipe books, the full coffee cups, the rumpled bed sheets. 

Every painting is returned to the vault. She figures she should at least preserve them so that if, at some point in the distant future, civilization ever reaches a point where art and history of the time before the great war become relevant, they can be retrieved. 

On her last day in Mt. Weather, Clarke simply cries. Laying on a bed that belonged to a girl named Ida who carved her name into the bedpost, she sobs and sobs until she has no more tears. Ida left her books on the floor; her dolls are in their dollhouse. Her diary sits on her desk with a pink pen and a picture of her father. 

There is a birthday card on the bedside table. Ida was 6. 

************************************************************************************  
As she closes the door for the last time and walks through her field of death, Clarke debates what to do next. She isn’t ready to go back, to face Jasper or her mother or any of the parents of those she couldn’t save. She isn’t ready to see Harper and only be able to see Ida had she been able to live eleven more years. Instead she goes wandering again. 

She isn’t sure how long she is gone. The nights melt together and soon the chill in the air is the only way for her to measure how long it has been since she pretended to not see Bellamy’s tears and not to feel him shudder when she embraced him. She isn’t sure where she is either. Maybe miles away from Camp Jaha, maybe only meters. She didn’t pay attention to which direction she went in, and although she knows how to tell where she is based on the sun, that isn’t much help if you don’t know where you are in relation to your destination. 

When she wakes to the first snow she has ever seen, all she can think of is Finn and how much he would have loved it. How she had lied and told him she loved him as she cut up his stomach, a stomach she had once kissed. As she huddles in a cave, shivering by a small fire, Clarke wonders if it is snowing at Camp Jaha. She imagines the wonder in the eyes of her people as they experience their first winter. 

A sudden pang of homesickness hits her, but it is quickly covered with guilt as she reminds herself why she isn’t there in the first place. 

************************************************************************************  
On her seventh snowfall, Clarke finally is able to accept her actions. 

It’s all because of a dying bear. 

She had been looking for food. The snow had hidden all the greens and berries she had been able to rely on before the winter hit. Now her only hope for food is meat, and all the animals seem to have left the area when the snow came. Just as she gives up hope of finding a meal, Clarke hears rustling in the bushes a short distance away. Quietly making her way over, she lifts the spear she had found half buried in mud weeks ago. 

It should have been asleep in a mountain. It should have been minding its own business. It should have been fulfilled by what it had gotten the summer before, not looking for more. But the bear is awake and it is hungry. Not content to live in its mountain, it’s wandering the woods. 

It sees Clarke before she sees it, she realizes later. The bear had smelled her far before she had any idea it even existed. Perhaps if she had looked closer, at the prints in the snow or the musky sent in the air, she would have known better. But she ignored the warnings, and the bear was sick of its mountain. 

Before she knows what was happening, it charges towards her. Growling, teeth bared, it barrels through the bushes, and its small black eyes lock onto her too-thin frame. 

Eat or be eaten. One had to die. They both needed to eat. 

In the end she shoots it with her last three bullets. She had been saving them for a moment like this. The bear didn’t stand a chance; it didn’t know what she was capable of when it smelled her in the bushes. 

As she sits beside its cooling body she realizes that she didn’t have a choice. 

Eat or be eaten. One had to die. They both needed to eat. 

As she cuts into the warm flesh, skinning the once fearsome beast to make a warm cloak for herself, she wonders why the bear wasn’t in its mountain. Why it had to come out in winter, when there wouldn’t be any food for it. 

Eat or be eaten. One had to die. They both needed to eat.

As she pulls out the guts and covers her hands in thick, warm blood, she asks its forgiveness. 

Eat or be eaten. One had to die. They both needed to eat.

As she stares at its teeth and claws, she reflects on how easy it would have been for those teeth and claws to rip through her skin. 

Eat or be eaten. One had to die. They both needed to eat.

She wondered if the bear had a family. If bears even have any concept of family. 

Eat or be eaten. One had to die. They both needed to eat.

It had to be done. 

************************************************************************************  
She heads east, following the sun, with a bear skin cloak around her shoulders and blood under her nails. 

Her belly is full for the first time in weeks. 

***********************************************************************************  
When she sees the familiar peak, Clarke breathes a sigh of relief. But instead of continuing east, past the mountain, she climbs back up. 

She spends her last night in the wild in a blanket of snow, once again sitting in a bed of Ida’s. 

She says goodbye as the sun rises. 

Eat or be eaten. One had to die. They both needed to eat.

It had to be done. 

If only they had been content to sleep through the winter and wait until spring to eat. 

************************************************************************************  
It’s almost evening when she breaks the tree line. Blood is still under her nails, a bearskin cloak still around her shoulders, but soon she will be able to bathe and trade her cloak for a warm blanket. 

The guards at the gate simply stare at her in awe as she approaches. They mumble out a quiet “I thought you were dead…” before banging on the metal, signaling for the gatekeeper on the other side to open the gate. The camp is pretty deserted when she walks in, but she isn’t surprised. The snow that started falling this morning is almost up to her knees now. For a moment she stops, unsure of where to go or how to make her presence known. Part of her wants to turn back, to leave again, but before she can a voice calls out to her. 

“Cl-Clarke?” Monty has wood piled in his arms. He was clearly on his way back to the carcass of the Ark. “Oh my God, Clarke!” The wood falls into the snow as he races over to her, crashing into an embrace. “I thought you were dead.” He whispers in her ear. “It’s almost been six months Clarke, six months.” He pulls away and looks at her as if he is afraid she will disappear in a second. She doesn’t know what to say, so instead she offers a small smile. 

“Everyone is going to be so relieved.” Her smile falls with his words. Monty was the only person Clarke hadn’t been afraid to see again. The only one she felt she could face. Monty seemed to sense her hesitation. 

“Hey, its gonna be okay. Trust me, everyone is going to be so happy.” He offers her a wide smile and she nods. Taking her hand, Monty leads her towards the Ark, passing by the pile of firewood he had been carrying a minute before. As soon as they pass through the door, out of the winter wind, a wave of warmth hits her. Music faintly dances through the air and laughter bubbles down the hallways. Clarke bites down the bile rising in her throat as memories of her first days at Mt. Weather flood her mind. 

Monty tugs her forward. “They are all in the mess hall. We moved inside after the first snow. Most people had to double up or even triple up in rooms but hey, its warm. I helped Raven and Wick to get the heating system working. They also managed to figure out a solution to the shower problem, not that Murphy has noticed…” 

Clarke smiles and nods as Monty chatters on about the changes they had made in her absence. The creativity that is being allowed to bloom in the peace that the camp has enjoyed since September warms her more than the heating ever could. Soon they reach the chamber that Clarke assumes is the new mess hall. Monty gives her a reassuring smile and opens the door. Most of the camp seems to be inside. Some are eating, some playing board games, some just talking. She can’t help but remember the same scene at Mt. Weather moments before she and Bellamy pulled the lever. 

The first person to notice the newcomers is Harper. She just stares and mouths Clarke’s name. Jasper, who is in the middle of a card game with the girl, looks up to question why she hasn’t gone. He follows her gaze and his eyes widen. Dropping his cards, he stands up. “Clarke?”

Immediately the people around him look to the door and word spreads like wildfire around the room. Harper suddenly lunges forward, colliding into Clarke much like Monty had outside. A moment of silence falls in the hall, before it is broken sharply by the delinquents rushing forward to hug Clarke, shouting her name and bombarding her with questions. 

“Where were you? Are you okay? What did you do? Why are you back now? Why did you leave? Clarke, are you staying?” 

She is overwhelmed but thankfully Kane forces his way through the chaos, pulling her aside. “Alright everyone let her have some space. I need to take her to medical, then everyone can say hello.” He smiles down at her. “I’m glad you are okay, Clarke.” 

She nods at him, “Thanks, Kane.” 

He helps her out of the room and leads her to the med bay. Behind them what remains of the 100 follow chatting excitedly. The crowd is cut off as Kane shuts the doors to the med bay. Clarke sits on a bed and looks up at him. 

“Where is my mom?” 

“She went to her quarters after dinner, I’ll go get her. Do you need medical attention? Be honest with me Clarke.”

“No, just a bath and a warm meal.” He chuckles down at her and for a moment she feels like a 10 year old at one of her mother’s dinner parties again. If only her life could be that simple. 

“Anyone else you want me to get?”

“Anyone who wants to see me, I guess.” 

“They all want to see you, Clarke.” Kane says softly. “You saw them, they are over the moon that you are alright. We all thought… after the fourth month with no word we all thought...”

“I know.”

He nods and turns to leave. Just before opening the doors he turns back to her. “They really love you, you know that, right? You should have seen them Clarke. When Bellamy told us.” He looks at the ground and shakes his head. “You should have seen their faces.” He looks back up at her. “I’m glad you are back.” 

She forces a smile. “Thanks.” He nods again before leaving her in silence. Clarke sits for a minute, processing what just happened. Jasper hadn’t come over with the others. She didn’t see Raven or Octavia. 

Bellamy wasn’t there. 

She jumps off the cot and takes off the bearskin cloak. Slowly she makes her way over to the basin of water in the corner, surprised to find it empty. Gazing around the room Clarke’s eyes fall on the sink. It hasn’t worked since the Ark fell, but maybe… She turns the faucet and sure enough, ice-cold water pours out. They got the plumbing working, those brilliant assholes got heat and water working. Clarke can’t help but smile as pride swells in her gut. She washes her hands in the water, digging at her nails to get the bear blood out. 

“What do you think about them apples?”

Clarke jerks around to find Raven and Wick standing at the door, a shit-eating grin is plastered to both their faces. She lets out an appreciative huff before striding over to them and pulling Raven into a tight hug. The last time she saw the mechanic, the woman was so weak she couldn’t sit up on her own. “You’re okay, its all okay.” She whispers. 

“Of course I’m okay,” Raven sniffles as she pulls away. “You are the one who we should be making sure is okay! You were gone for so long Clarke. After a week we sent search parties but after a month passed…” She shakes her head. “Bellamy didn’t give up though.” 

Clarke feels guilt build up in her stomach as Raven continues on. 

“He went ‘hunting’ almost every other day for months. He only stopped when it started to snow heavily.” Raven pulls her into another, brief hug, before standing back. Wick smiles at Clarke, “Its good to have you back, Clarke.” 

She smiles back at him but before she can respond the doors open and her mother comes charging through, enveloping her in a tight embrace. Clarke feels tears on her shoulder and can’t stop her own from streaming down her cheeks. “Clarke, oh Clarke. Oh sweetie. Clarke. Clarke. Clarke.” Her mother rocks her slightly and pulls back, her hands cupping Clarke’s cheeks. Abby smiles widely despite the tears rolling down her face. “You’re okay. Oh thank God, you are okay.” She pulls her close again.

“I missed you, mom.” Her voice is thick and watery with tears. 

“Oh, sweetheart. I missed you. I missed you so much. I love you so much.” 

“I love you too.” They stay in their embrace for another minute, crying into each other’s shoulders. Finally, Abby releases her. Pulling back, but still holding onto her daughter’s hands as she inspects Clarke’s body. 

“You are so thin, Clarke. Wick, get her some dinner please.” He nods and leaves, Raven moves to sit on the cot opposite Clarke. “Are you hurt at all, sweetheart? Do you need stitches? A splint?”

Clarke chokes out a watery laugh. “I’m fine, mom.”

“And thank God for it. Oh Clarke, I was so worried. When Blake told me, I... I just…” she shakes her head and pulls Clarke into another embrace. They only brake apart when Kane returns with Jaha in his wake. Behind him Monty, Jasper, Miller, and Octavia shuffle in. 

After a quick hug from Miller and a “Welcome back, Clarke,” from Jaha, Clarke glances wearily at Jasper and Octavia. Monty nudges Jasper forward before moving to sit next to Raven on the cot. 

“Jasper, I-” she starts but he cuts her off with a tight embrace. 

“Its okay, Clarke. I understand now. It took a while, but I understand.” He pulls away and looked into her eyes. “I get it.” 

She nods back at him, holding in tears. He doesn’t forgive her, but he understands why she did what she did, and that is enough for her. Jasper moves back to stand next to Miller by the door as Octavia moves forward. 

Clarke can’t meet her eyes. The shame she feels over disappointing Octavia, over leaving her in TonDC, is something that has never left her. Never faded in the slightest overtime. 

“I forgive you Clarke.” The girl grabs her chin so that Clarke has to look at her. Octavia doesn’t have any war paint and her hair is loose. She looks like she did in those first weeks. She remindd Clarke of the innocence they had before. “I thought about it a lot while you were gone. I’m not gonna lie. I hated you for a long time. I was glad you left-”

“Octavia-” Miller cuts in.

“No,” Octavia shoots Miller a withering glare. “She needs to hear this.” She turns back to Clarke and grabs her hand. “I hated you. I didn’t want you to come back. But then… when week after week went by… I thought about it more. About the options, or lack thereof. And… well… I missed you. I was worried. I was so worried. And I forgave you. I still don’t agree with what you did but… but I don’t hate you. Even if I wanted to I don’t think my idiot of a brother would let me.” She huffs out a small laugh and pulls Clarke into a hug. “I’m glad you are okay. I’m glad you’re back and you’re safe. I hope you found what you were looking for.” 

“Thank you, Octavia. I’m so sorry. I-”

“No, no more apologies. You and me? We are good.” The younger Blake smiles at her. 

The med bay doors open and Wick walks in with a piece of roast meat and what looks like some kind of potato. He hands her the plate and a glass of water. Clarke smiles and mumbles a thank you before digging in. The group around her informs her of the changes that have gone on at camp, the developments in trade talks, and the latest gossip. 

For the first time in what felt like ages, Clarke feels safe. She feels warm and full and okay. But there is one notable absence in the room that sticks out like a sore thumb. As Clarke finishes her meal, Murphy comes through the door. He offers her a quick smile before mumbling something in Miller’s ear. The two men nod to Clarke before leaving the room. Octavia’s gaze follows them out, a concerned look on her face. 

“Well, I think that is enough for tonight. Clarke will still be here tomorrow. We should let her sleep.” Her mother ushers the others out of the med bay while Clarke lays back against the cot, exhaustion suddenly washing over her. Her mother stands over her, putting a hand on her cheek. “I’m so glad your home, honey.” Clarke smiles back and her mother moves towards the door. “Now you just go to sl-”

“Where is he, mom?” Abby turns around. 

“What?”

“Where is Bellamy? Why did Octavia look so concerned when Miller and Murphy left?”

Her mother sighs. “He went out hunting yesterday with Monroe and James. He was supposed to be back last night.” Clarke’s throat feels too thick. She finally came back and he is gone. He is missing. No. “I’m sure Blake is fine.” She doesn’t sound sure. The day before was beautiful and warm by winter’s standards. They would have left with minimal gear, especially if they planned to be back before nightfall. The snow that was near her knee an hour earlier would be even higher now. And they still aren’t back. 

“Goodnight, mom.” Her voice is thick. 

“He will be okay.” Clarke just nods tightly and looks away. “Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you.” 

As soon as the doors close Clarke breathes out a rasping breath. The last thing that crosses her mind before she falls asleep in a real bed for the first time in six months is that asshole better come back. 

************************************************************************************

She wakes to warm fingers brushing her hair away from her face. 

Opening her eyes slowly, she blinks away sleep and takes in her surroundings as her sleep addled brain tries to make sense of where she is and what happened the night before. She blearily notes that someone is standing over her raised cot. 

“Hey, Princess.” A deep voice rumbles. Her heart nearly stops. 

“Bellamy?” The fingers in her hair stop. 

“Yeah, its me, Clarke.” She sits up and takes in his disheveled appearance. His hair is longer than she remembers. It is tussled and tangled in parts, still wet from the snow. Heavy shadows hang under his dark eyes and he has a fresh cut on his left cheek. They just sit there for a minute, staring at each other. Noting the changes to each other’s faces, rememorizing freckles and worry lines. He leans in close to her, his hand catching hers and threading their fingers together. He smells like sweat and smoke and dirt and woods and something that is distinctly Bellamy. He smells like home. 

“Did you do what you needed to?” She can feel his warm breath against her cheek, against her lips. 

Nodding slightly she whispers, “Yes.” 

He cracks a small smile. “Good, because this camp is going to shit without you, Princess.” She lets out a small, surprised laugh. Swinging her legs over the side of her cot, Clarke pulls him into a tight embrace. Because of the height of the cot, and his tall stature, her head lays against his broad chest. She feels him give a quick kiss to the top of her head before resting his chin on her hair. They stay like that for a while, neither one speaking, just breathing in each other.

“I missed you.” His voice is so quiet that she feels more than hears his words as they rumble out of his chest. 

“I missed you too.” If possible, the pulls her even closer to his chest, his solid body lodged snuggly between her legs. 

“You here to stay?” He asks after a long moment. She nods against his chest rather than answer, tears threatening to fall. Bellamy pulls back and gazes down at her, a strange look on his face. “Good.” 

Clarke smiles lazily up at him before lying back on the cot. “I’m still pretty tired, Bellamy.” 

He nods and starts to turn towards the door when she catches his arm. “I can see the bags under your eyes, and I know you have been out with Monroe and James for two days. You need to rest too.”

“Whatever you say, Princess.” He smiles affectingly at her before trying to turn to leave again. 

“No, Bellamy.” He turns back again, confusion in his eyes. 

“What do you want from me, Clarke?”

“I want you to stay.” She scoots over on the small cot and his eyes widen. 

“There isn’t room.” She nearly rolls her eyes. 

“We can make room. I’m tired Bellamy, you are tired too. I haven’t seen another living person in six months and I don’t really want to be alone.” I don’t want to leave you again. I’m not ready for us to part, even for a few hours. He stares at her hard for a long moment before finally nodding and shrugging off his jacket and kicking off his boots. She turns to her side when he sits on the cot, expecting him to lay with his back to her. To her surprise, Bellamy curls up against her, pulling her back to his chest with one, strong arm curling around her waist and the other resting underneath her matted curls. After a moment, she relaxes into his warm, solid frame and nearly shudders as she feels his breath on her ear. 

“I’m glad you’re back, Princess.”

“Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> So obviously in this story Murphy and Jaha never left because honestly who had the emotional ability to deal with a potential nuke right now. I don't own any of the characters. I hope you liked it!


End file.
